


Healing Hands

by CompanyPolicy



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Courtship, F/M, Female Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, accidental courtship initiation, dragon courtship, i told y'all the rating would go up, interspecies courtship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-01-25 07:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12525768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompanyPolicy/pseuds/CompanyPolicy
Summary: A sleep deprived Bosmer woman stumbles upon an injured dragon and accidentally catches his eye.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the lack of dragon/oc romance in this fandom is disappointing, so i'll just fill the tags my damn self
> 
> edit: forgot to mention that this was inspired by a fill on the skyrimkinkmeme, which is at http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/5232.html?thread=12651888#t12651888

Nivai Rosestone wasn’t the Dragonborn, and she was eternally grateful for that. While like many other inhabitants of Skyrim, she felt a mixture of fascination and terror towards the dragons that had appeared after the destruction of Helgen. She could still recall with clarity the first time she’d seen one: she’d been passing through Rorikstead, and a dragon had swooped out of nowhere. After blasting the houses with ice, it had landed—right in front of Nivai! She’d scrambled backwards and fallen on her ass, much to the apparent amusement of the dragon. She would swear on her own grave that she’d heard it laugh at her. But then the Dragonborn had appeared from thin air, blasting the dragon with lightning and directing its attention away from Nivai. Once she’d returned to Whiterun, she’d made sure to send the Dragonborn numerous treats from her bakery as thanks for saving her life.

Now, she could say that wasn’t the closest she’d ever gotten to a dragon.

She’d been returning to Whiterun from Solitude when she’d heard the commotion. Against all common sense and survival instinct, she veered her horse off the road, into the forest, and towards the sound of cracking branches and growls. She couldn’t be blamed for the stupidity of her actions. She never slept well while traveling; she had gotten _maybe_ a sum of fourteen hours of sleep the entire two weeks she’d been returning to Whiterun. It wasn’t her fault she made terrible choices when sleep deprived.

The short trek through the woods brought her to a clearing. A clearing that was currently inhabited by a dragon.

Nivai halted her horse at the clearing’s edge behind a cluster of trees. The dragon hadn’t spotted her or heard her approach. She could (should) have left immediately.

But there was so much blood.

It covered the ground and the trees at the far side of the clearing. The tops of several trees were broken off, and there were deep furrows in the ground. The dragon must have fallen from the sky and was injured. Either the injury had caused the fall, or something had injured the dragon enough to cause its descent. The dragon itself seemed to be covered in blood.

Nivai shivered when the dragon snarled. It was a fearsome creature and would probably tear her to pieces if she approached but . . .

Her mother had always said she had more compassion than sense.

And after he defeated Alduin, the Dragonborn had announced that most of the dragons had bowed to him, leaving only a few dragons that refused to follow him. So, her chances of running into a non-enemy dragon was pretty good . . . right?

Nivai dismounted and tied her horse to a sturdy branch. While Marble was an even-tempered horse, Nivai didn’t want to risk him spooking and leaving her stranded.

She gathered her pack and approached the dragon.

Halfway through the clearing, Nivai paused. The dragon hadn’t seemed to notice her approach and had gone awfully still. She could see its chest expanding with its breath, so it hadn’t died. Maybe it was sleeping? To aid its recovery? She should probably announce her presence anyway. No reason to risk startling an injured dragon.

“Hello? Dragon?” she called out.

The dragon’s head jerked up and towards her. Its lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing its long, sharp teeth as it growled.

Nivai shivered. Her heart was beating rabbit-quick. “You’re injured. May I assist you? I mean no harm, I swear.”

The growling lowered in volume but didn’t stop. The dragon tilted its massive head to one side as it observed her.

Nivai stayed as still as possible during the inspection. She doubted she could outrun the dragon even in its wounded state.

Finally, the dragon nodded; it was a slow, singular lowering of its head, but that was all Nivai needed to skittishly approach the dragon.

When she finally got close to it, she could see that, while there was a lot of blood (it was pooling in the trenches beneath the dragon), the dragon wasn’t coated in it. The dragon’s scales were in fact a mixture of pale blue and dark red.

“Beautiful,” Nivai couldn’t help murmuring. A huff to her right startled her. She jerked to look into the dragon’s pale-yellow eyes. It appeared to be amused by her.

 _Just heal them and leave_ , Nivai told herself. Dragons didn’t seem to have much patience, and she didn’t want to test if this dragon had more than the others.

There were several long and deep gashes along the dragon’s side and back. Some had even partially shredded a wing. Nivai concentrated her initial efforts there; if she couldn’t heal the wing, then the dragon most likely wouldn’t be able to fly ever again.

She gathered her healing magic into her hands and set to work. While she didn’t speak of it, she was a talented and skilled mage. She’d been Apprenticed to the deceased Arch-Mage upon first arriving in Skyrim nearly twelve years ago at the age of fourteen. She had enjoyed the other Apprentices and the ability to research and experiment in peace, but the College was too isolated and the other mages too distant (Of course, that’s how it was with most mages. Their minds were always half concentrated on their studies even when they were mid-conversation). Nivai had found her calling in baking and weaving her recipes with minor spells and had left the College to pursue it. She now owned two successful bakeries with plans to open a third within the next year.

Nivai sang softly as she worked, going through several songs commonly heard in Skyrim, and only paused to drink magicka potions. She found her healing potions and, doubting she’d be able to convince the dragon to drink them, poured a few in the deeper gashes while her magicka regenerated.

Though the dragon was silent throughout the entire process, Nivai would feel its eyes on her. Gradually, her nerves subsided. The stare wasn’t malicious. It felt curious and stunned.

The idea that she had baffled a dragon was a delightful one. Maybe she could push her luck?

“Dragon,” she said finally. “Do you like riddles?”

The dragon shifted in place. “Geh, vahdin. Dovah enjoy riddles.”

“Would you mind if we traded riddles, then? Healing your wounds will take a while longer,” she said.

The dragon shifted again. A rumbling that reminded Nivai of purring started in the dragon’s chest. “Geh, vahdin.”

The dragon and her traded riddles back and forth. The dragon knew many more than Nivai did, and most of his riddles were hundreds of years old, but somehow Nivai managed to not be stumped by him every other word. When the dragon ran out of riddles, they moved on to jokes.

“What’s a dragon’s favorite day of the week?” Nivai asked.

“I do not know, vahdin.”

“Chewsday.”

The dragon threw his head back and laughed. It was a deep, rich, rumbling sound that made Nivai’s stomach flip and curl pleasantly. She tried not to blush.

Nivai gasped. “Oh! I never introduced myself. That was rude of me. I’m Nivai Rosestone. May I ask your name?”

The dragon’s purr deepened. He bowed his head to her. “Geh, vahdin. My name is Odahviing.”

Nivai mouthed the name. She liked the way it curled in her mouth and lingered over her tongue. “A good name.”

Odahviing purred louder and preened under her words.

A shout split the air. “ _Od-ah-viing!_ ”

Odahviing’s head whirled to the sky, his entire body tense. He turned back to Nivai with a mournful stare. “My lord calls me. I must answer.”

“Oh,” Nivai murmured. She inspected her work and nibbled on her lip. Most of the wounds were closed but a few weren’t fully healed. “I’m not finished. Are you all right to fly?”

Odahviing stretched, careful not to hit Nivai. “Geh. Kogaan, vahdin. Many thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Odahviing.” She gathered her things and backed away from him. “I wish you a quick and safe journey. Farewell.”

“Erei mu grind, brit saviik. Until we meet again.”

Nivai watched him gracefully ascend and didn’t leave until she could no longer spot him in the sky.


	2. Chapter 2

The gifts started a week later.

They started out small—well, goats weren’t exactly small, but they were in relation to the later gifts—anyway, the gifts started out as goats on her front lawn. At first, Nivai thought the dead animals were byproducts of a predator’s attack or even an escaped hunter’s kill. She’d skinned and butchered the animals because, well, waste not want not, right?

But then it got weird.

Deer and elk showed up next. Sometimes there was only one animal, but normally there were two or three. There were too many for it to be a coincidence. A hunter or predator couldn’t have been responsible. No hunter was that terrible at tracking their game. And what kind of predator wounded its prey and then didn’t eat it?

Nivai went over her options as she stared at the newest elk in her front yard. (Thank the gods that she lived outside of Whiterun. If this had been happening in the city, the Jarl himself would probably have thrown a fit.)

Perhaps it was something she had done? One of her spells that had gone wrong and caused this? No, it couldn’t have been. All her spells had worked properly with no strange aftereffects, and none of her spells had anything to do with animals.

Was somebody trying to curse her? No, that didn’t make any sense either. Nivai had been cursed before; she knew the feeling of being watched constantly, the unrelenting bad luck, and the cold, prickling sweat that came along with being cursed. Whatever was happening to her was not the fault of a mage.

What else had happened to her recently? Anything out of the ordinary?

Nivai thought long and hard but nothing came to mind except the . . . the dragon. She stared down at the elk. Were those slashes from Odahviing’s claws and teeth? They could be. But why would he put these on her lawn?

“If someone gives you something after you’ve done something for them, they’re thanking you,” she muttered to herself. Was Odahviing thanking her for healing his wounds? But if he was thanking her, why wasn’t he staying to give her the gifts in person? “Maybe it’s a dragon thing?”

It had to be a dragon thing.

* * *

 

This had to stop now!

It had been nearly a month, and the gifts hadn’t stopped. Which had been fine. Strange, but fine. On several occasions, Nivai had attempted to time Odahviing’s deliveries, hoping to speak to him again, but he had somehow learned of her plans and avoided her. Nivai wasn’t sure if she should be insulted he was avoiding her but still leaving her gifts. If he didn’t want to interact with her, then why leave gifts in the first place? It baffled her.

But that wasn’t the problem.

That afternoon, she’d returned home to find a mammoth—an entire mammoth—on her lawn. She could barely see her house! What was she supposed to do with it?! Her ice cellar was already filled with venison, and she didn’t possess the butchery skills to carve a mammoth up!

Nivai—after standing on the road and gaping for several minutes—whirled around and dashed back to Whiterun. The Dragonborn dealt with dragons. He would know what in Oblivion was going on!

She nearly ran into Ysolda in her haste and threw an apology over her shoulder at the other woman. She couldn’t stop. The Dragonborn was infamous for rarely staying in one place for too long. If she missed him, it would likely be weeks before he set foot in Whiterun again, and while she was desperate enough to climb to High Hrothgar, she didn’t want to climb the seven thousand steps.

She arrived at Jorrvaskr in only a few minutes and knocked frantically on the door.

Athis answered the door. “Nivai? What’s wrong?” he asked upon seeing her flustered state.

“Is the Dragonborn here?” she asked, panting.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, he nodded. “Yes, Do’iska’s here. Why do you need him?” His eyes widened. “It’s not a dragon, is it?”

“I—well, not exactly, but kind of? There’s not a dragon attacking, but the problem involves a dragon, just, please let me talk to the Dragonborn,” Nivai said.

Athis frowned but stepped aside to let her enter the mead hall, calling out, “Do’iska, Nivai here needs your assistance.”

Nivai followed Athis as he walked to one end of the filled table. All the Companions seemed to have sat down for a meal; Nivai felt guilty for interrupting, but she believed they would understand.

The Dragonborn—a Khajiit by the name of Do’iska Jahkani who reminded Nivai of a snowy sabre cat—was seated at the right side of the table. He looked up from his conversation with the twins when Athis called his name. “Yes? What brings you to Jorrvaskr in such a state, my friend?”

Nivai tried to smile, but her nerves turned it into a grimace. “I believe my problem would be best understood if I gave you the context for it.”

Do’iska nodded and motioned for her to continue. His steady demeanor calmed Nivai. He would know what to do.

She took a deep breath and explained, “Around a month ago, I was returning from Solitude and heard noises from the forest. I was horribly sleep deprived and stupidly investigated. I found a badly wounded dragon in a clearing.” Now she had the attention of the entire room. “It felt wrong to leave them like that, especially since I’m skilled in magic and healing. So, I approached them and asked if I could assist with their wounds. They agreed, I healed them, and we parted ways amicably. Now, my problem: a week after my interaction with the dragon . . . gifts? Began appearing in my yard in the form of dead goats, deer, and elk, which was all fine and good. But now there’s a mammoth in front of my house, and I need this to stop. I mean, what’s next? A giant? Draugr?”

Do’iska’s ears flicked. “You healed a dragon’s wounds and now you believe it is leaving you gifts on your lawn?” he asked.

“I know it sounds mad, but look outside! You can see the mammoth from the city!” Nivai cried out.

There was a slight scramble to get outside because the Companions also wanted to see the madness. Do’iska kept Nivai close to him to avoid her getting squashed between the warriors.

“That . . . is definitely a mammoth,” Do’iska said, once everyone was outside and standing near the Skyforge to get the best view.

“I know it seems absurd, Do’iska, but a dragon really is leaving me gifts. It’s nice, but it needs to stop. I mean, it’s blocking my house! How am I supposed to carve that thing?! I’ll have to hire every butcher in Whiterun,” Nivai said mournfully.

Do’iska clasped her shoulder. “Do not worry, Nivai. Do’iska will get to the bottom of this. First thing in the morning, Do’iska will go to the Throat of the World and ask his friends there what they know.” He thought for a moment. “Perhaps . . . do you happen to know the dragon’s name? Would make this go much easier for all.”

Nivai brightened. “Yes! I do. His name is Odahviing.”

Do’iska seemed stunned. He stared at Nivai in confusion, looked at the mammoth, back to Nivai, and then back to the mammoth.

“What’s wrong? Is he not one of the dragons on your side?” Nivai asked. Oh gods, what if she had helped an enemy dragon? Divines preserve her!

“He is but . . . but this is very unlike him,” Do’iska answered. “He is, uh, how should Do’iska say this? A bastard. Loyal and helps when called, but a bastard all the same.”

Nivai’s frown deepened. “He seemed very nice when I spoke with him. We traded riddles and jokes while I healed him.”

Do’iska stared at her again. “Riddles? Jokes? This one did not know that dragons could tell jokes. Well, ones that appealed to mortals. Most dragon jokes Do’iska has heard involve mortals being eaten or at least killed . . . though perhaps it is not best to judge from what is heard during battle, hm?” He grinned. “Do not worry, Nivai. Do’iska will speak to Odahviing in the morning and discover what is happening. Go home and rest.” He looked back at her house or, more specifically, the mammoth. “Eh, maybe hire the butchers first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr at thefandomhoarder


	3. Chapter 3

The mammoth took ten people nearly a week to completely butcher. Nivai had hired the entire Cloud-Skinner family (Eligarte, her three children, and their spouses), Anoriath, and Elrindir to help her with the mammoth, also offering several pounds of mammoth meat as part of their payment. All the butchers were eager to assist; mammoth meat was rich, delicious, and healthy. Nivai had gotten a courier from the Jarl himself, requesting to buy half the meat for Dragonsreach and the Whiterun guard. Of course, Nivai had accepted. She had also sold more of the meat after (briefly) expanding her ice cellar, gifting meat to the Companions, Carlotta, and the Gray-Manes because 1) The Companions were always welcoming to her despite their initial distrust of her magic, 2) Carlotta was a very good friend with a daughter to feed, and 3) the Gray-Manes had helped Nivai when she’d first gotten to Whiterun, fresh out of the College and not knowing how to make her dreams a reality. They had welcomed her to stay in their home, and she was forever grateful. The Battle-Borns would say it was a sign of her favoring the Stormcloaks or some other garbage, but she knew they were just envious that she’d gifted the meat to their enemies rather than sold it, like she’d done to them.

There were rumors, of course. Most people in the city wanted to know how the hell she’d gotten a mammoth—

Nivai had decided the truth was best. She told them it was a gift and left it at that.

All right, so it was an edited version of the truth, but it was still the truth. It wasn’t her fault that no one actually asked her who the gift was from—

Even after the mammoth bones and lower legs (the flesh there was too tough and stringy for people to consume) were removed her property, Nivai would get people in her bakery who whispered and stared while getting their pastry fix. She hadn’t expected it to die down. People stilled wondered at how the Dragonborn could be a Kahjiit, for gods’ sake. They would be talking about that damned mammoth for months.

Speaking of the Dragonborn, Do’iska had left a week ago to find Odahviing and question him. She’d heard the Shout of Odahviing’s name, the same she’d heard from Dragonsreach a year ago and in the clearing a month ago. She assumed that Do’iska was either still talking to Odahviing or had gone to High Hrothgar to investigate further. But what was there to investigate? Surely, this was just a thank you gone on a bit too long?

Two weeks later, Do’iska arrived back in Whiterun.

Nivai hadn’t known until the man himself had walked into her bakery with a hesitance she’d never seen from him. She was immediately on edge.

“Do’iska, it’s good to see you. Please, sit. Let me get you something. On the house, of course,” Nivai said, reaching for the cream horns the Dragonborn liked so much.

Do’iska shook his head. “No, Nivai. Thank you, but Do’iska needs to speak with you. It is a matter of grave importance.”

She closed her display case slowly. “This is about the gifts, isn’t it?”

Do’iska winced and nodded.

Inhaling slowly to calm herself, Nivai wiped her hands on her apron. “I can take a late lunch break. Let me get Sabiayl to watch the shop.” She turned towards the back room and called out, “Sabiayl, I’m taking my lunch break. I need you to watch the front.”

A few seconds later, the door opened but the Breton woman Nivai was expecting didn’t show. Instead Tanea, the twelve-year-old Dunmer orphan Nivai had adopted as an apprentice after a miserable trip to Windhelm, appeared.

“Sabiayl’s busy with the layered pastry, ma’am,” Tanea said, her dark red eyes flicking from Nivai to Do’iska.

Nivai smiled. “Then do you want to watch the front while I’m gone?”

Tanea beamed. “Can I?”

“Of course. Get a stool and come over here. You’ve been practicing your numbers, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tanea answered eagerly. She pulled a stool from the corner to the counter. “I can even do multiplications now.”

“A fine achievement,” Do’iska said. He had purposefully relaxed his posture and tone. He was always kind to children. “When Do’iska was a cub, he could not do multiplications until he was nearly fourteen seasons.”

Tanea’s grin widened, and she bounced on the stool as she spoke, “Sabiayl says I’ll be doing division soon.”

Do’iska smiled. “Division,” he wondered. “Do’iska can still not grasp the concept. Perhaps you will be good enough to teach him, yes?”

Nodding, Tanea giggled when her long, dark hair slipped from its horsetail to flop in her face.

Nivai took off her apron, folded it, and placed it behind the counter. “Now, don’t let Nazeem or those Battle-Borns intimidate you into giving them a discount. Just because someone’s rich doesn’t mean they deserve a discount or that they’re allowed to be rude to everyone else. Do you understand? If someone gives you trouble, then get Sabiayl.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Nivai followed Do’iska out of her shop and down the road to Breezehome. At her questioning glance, Do’iska said, “This is a conversation best had in private.”

She was well and truly fucked, wasn’t she?

Nivai followed Do’iska into Breezehome. Lydia looked up from her book when they entered.

“My Thane. Nivai,” she greeted. She watched them curiously.

“We’ll speak upstairs,” Do’iska said.

They climbed the stairs and entered Do’iska’s room. He motioned for her to sit, and she did so. He sat across from her, running a hand over his face wearily.

“Out with it,” she said. “How bad is it? Have I invoked the wrath of a dragon? Gods, I’m going to have to watch out for a dragon looking to roast me alive, aren’t I?”

“That,” Do’iska said, “is the opposite of your problem.”

Nivai frowned. “What?”

Do’iska reached into his pack and pulled out two bottles of Honningbrew mead. He handed one to Nivai and uncorked the second for himself. He drained the bottle in several long pulls, set the bottle on the table, and retrieved a second.

“Do’iska does not know how to explain this matter,” he said slowly.

Cradling the bottle in her hands, Nivai said, “Then just tell me what happened when you spoke with Odahviing.”

Do’iska sighed and began explaining.

* * *

 

“ _Od-Ah-Viing!_ ” Do’iska Shouted when he was far enough on the open plains to not attract any unwanted attention from the guards. Moments later, he spotted a dark shape on the horizon. Soon, Odahviing was landing a few feet away from him.

“Drem Yol Lok, Thuri,” Odahviing greeted.

“Drem Yol Lok, Odahviing,” Do’iska replied.

“I see no enemies here, Thuri. Why do you summon me?” Odahviing questioned, tilting his massive head to the side.

“Do’iska comes to ask why you have been leaving gifts for Nivai Rosestone.”

Odahviing perked up at the mention of Nivai, raising his head and preening. “The brit vahdin! Yes, I have seen how she appreciates my gifts. My quest goes well.”

“What quest? Why do you do this? If you wish to thank her for healing your wounds, you have done so and more.” Do’iska made sure to control his tone as he spoke, keeping his tone light and inquisitive. He hadn’t missed how Odahviing called Nivai ‘beautiful maiden’.

“Ah, has the wuth dovah explained so little of our culture to you, Thuri?” Odahviing teased, leaning down to stare Do’iska in the eye once again.

Do’iska held in a sigh. “The Wise One is reluctant to speak of the dragons’ culture, yes. Perhaps you will explain what he has not.”

Odahviing laughed. “Geh, Thuri. Your humble servant will explain.” Do’iska barely restrained the urge to pull a face at that. “I am courting the brit vahdin.”

Do’iska froze. He could not comprehend what he was hearing. “What?”

“I too was stunned when she initiated the courtship. I thought the courtship of the dov was long lost amongst the joor.” Odahviing was either oblivious to Do’iska’s horror or chose to ignore it. Do’iska guessed the former, since the dragon seemed almost lost in contemplation.

“Explain,” Do’iska managed to say.

“You must be more specific, Thuri. Explain my courtship of the brit vahdin or the history of dovah and joor mating?” Odahviing asked, his tone sly.

Do’iska wanted to scream but gritted his teeth instead. “History first.”

“Very well. As you know, during Alduin’s rule, the joor were zaam. However, not all mortals lived as unwilling slaves.”

“Do’iska knows of the Dragon Priests, yes.”

“Not only the Sonaak. There were others, those that admired the dovah but did not worship us as the Sonaak did. They were aar or aan, the joor who served us willingly. Many of the aan witnessed dov courtship and attempted their mortal form of it on their drogs. Those that served the dovah on the outskirts of Alduin’s reign—out of the World Eater’s immediate sight—were often successful and taken as secondary or tertiary mates,” Odahviing explained.

“Do’iska has never heard of this.”

Odahviing laughed. “Most do not know of it. Alduin thought it shameful and preferred not to acknowledge it. The Dovah Ah must feel the same.”

Do’iska nodded. The Blades would indeed find the idea of mortals willingly mating with dragons as shameful. “What does this have to do with Nivai?”

“The brit vahdin initiated the dov courtship when we met. She healed my wounds, gave her name freely, and asked for mine.”

“And that is how dov courtship begins?”

“On the female’s side, yes. The male’s is much more complicated. Dovah females are fiercer and quicker to anger than males. A slip in decorum would see the male torn to ribbons.”

“And the gifts?”

Odahviing said, “For a month, I must prove I can provide. The next month, I must prove I can protect. Then, if the brit vahdin approves of my courtship, I will stay in her territory and we shall cohabitate for another month. If she finds my presence to her liking and does not remove me from her territory by the end of the month, she will decide if we will be mates for the season or longer. Such is the courtship of a primary mate.”

 “What does ‘primary mate’ mean?”

“She will hold my highest priority—below your will, of course, Thuri—and will be recognized as my equal.”

Do’iska frowned. “That . . . is much different than mortal courtship.”

“Geh.”

“What Do’iska means is, the courtship has confused Nivai. She believed you were thanking her for healing you, not courting her.”

Odahviing was silent for several moments. Finally, he asked slowly, “Have I insulted the brit vahdin?”

“Well, no. She was not insulted. She simply said the mammoth was . . . too much.” When Odahviing nodded, Do’iska hoped that the dragon somehow understood but that hope was dashed when he spoke again.

“Vahzah. The joor are small and eat much less than dovah. Of course, the mammoth is too much for her. Sahrot pahlok ahrk paak. Kogaan, Dovahkiin. Zu'u fen lost liivrah kah ko fin ruz tiid.”

Do’iska clasped his hands in front of his face and inhaled deeply to calm himself. After everything he’d seen and done, this was perhaps the most disturbing event he’d witnessed, and he’d almost married a hagraven and fucked the Daedric Prince of Debauchery (Had he? Or hadn’t he? That entire night was a blur and Sanguine still wouldn’t tell Do’iska if they’d bedded each other). “Perhaps it would be best if Nivai spoke to you herself, yes?”

“Nid! Zok dukaan!” Odahviing snarled. “Never dishonor a female by questioning her choice, Dovahkiin. The courtship will continue until the end of the second month. Then, the brit vahdin will either allow me entrance to her territory or not.”

Do’iska tensed, suddenly wary. “And if she refuses?”

“Then, the courtship will cease, and I will take my leave.”

“And at the end of the third month? If Nivai refuses the mating at the end of the courtship?”

“The courtship will cease, and I will leave. I know what you are thinking, Dovahkiin, but to force a female to mate is a great dishonor. Even Alduin would have killed a male who had forced a mating, even if the female involved was joor.”

Do’iska nodded, though he found it hard to believe that the World Eater would defend mortals under any circumstances. He wracked his brain for something else to say, something else to ask, but he was barely processing the conversation as it was.

Odahviing took advantage of the silence. “Have I answered all your questions, Thuri?”

“Yes, Do’iska believes so. Many thanks, Odahviing,” Do’iska said reluctantly.

“Vah Su'um Ven, Thuri,” Odahviing said, stretching his wings and taking to the skies.

“Vah Su’um Ven, Odahviing.”

After his conversation with Odahviing, Do’iska traveled to the Throat of the World. He needed Paarthurnax to confirm or deny what he had heard. He returned to Whiterun, saddled his horse, and nearly galloped all the way to the mountain, rarely stopping to rest. He prayed to the Divines that Odahviing had been lying, but a deep part of himself knew the dragon’s words to be true.

Upon arriving at the top of the mountain and almost interrogating his beloved teacher, Do’iska had his answer. It was not the one he wanted.

* * *

 

Nivai blinked slowly. She stared at the Dragonborn as she processed his words. “Odahviing—a dragon—is courting me.”

“Yes,” Do’iska answered, downing a third bottle of mead.

“How,” she cleared her throat, “how would that even work?”

Do’iska narrowed his eyes at her. “You must forgive this one if he has never thought of how a dragon and mortal would mate, my friend.”

Nivai blushed to the roots of her white hair and downed her now warm mead. It seemed she was fucked, just in a more literal way than she had initially thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drop kicks my depression and finally posts this chapter*

After eating lunch with Do’iska and Lydia, Nivai went back to work. She spent the rest of the week in a daze. She didn’t know how to process the sudden change of events or her emotions; what was she supposed to do? If her life had been threatened, she could have handled that. Despite the general opinion that Nivai had only been a sheltered mage or baker in her young life, she was no stranger to dangerous adventuring. She’d had to fund her bakery and experiments somehow, after all.

She’d been courted before, had marriage proposals even, but this wasn’t a nice Redguard or Argonian looking for a wife. This was a dragon, an immortal being that could destroy towns and tear people to ribbons. She should have felt fear or disgust or at the very least some sort of hesitance. He was huge for Mara’s sake!

But sitting in her home’s laboratory, Nivai only felt flattered, honored even, at Odahviing’s interest in her. But did she return the interest? She was fascinated by him but that was more because he was a dragon than him as a person. She had enjoyed talking with him during their initial meeting, but she didn’t know him. Or anything about dragons, really.

_Well_ , she thought, looking out the window at the sky, _I have nearly three months to learn._

* * *

 

The gifts continued. The last of the first courtship month saw elk and large chests filled with treasure on her lawn. Nivai didn’t know exactly what to do with the treasure; she made plenty from her bakeries and had already had a nice nest egg in case business soured. By the month’s end, she had enough money to last her for several lifetimes and that was measuring by the elven lifespan.

She had thought about getting a bigger house with more land, but she worried that Odahviing might interpret her moving as a rejection. She hated not knowing all the facts and wished she had more information on dragon courtship practices, but the Dragonborn had firmly washed his hands on the matter the minute she’d expressed interest in Odahviing’s offer.

Do’iska still couldn’t quite look her in the eye. Nivai hoped her decision didn’t affect their friendship; she valued it greatly.

For now, though, she examined the new offerings of the second courtship month: three dead wolves. Apparently, proving he was an ample protector meant leaving the carcasses of predators on her lawn. Nivai didn’t mind. In fact, this was more familiar to her than the first month. Bosmer had a similar practice, and there was an Old Nordic tradition (favored only by the most traditional Nords in Skyrim) that stated a warrior was to take down a foe and present a trophy from the kill to their intended, who would then wear the trophy if they accepted the courtship.

The wolves—and sabres and bears that followed—made wonderful cloaks and bedding.

Though she wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the bandits, thieves, assassins, and draugr that inevitably ended up on her lawn later that month.

As the end of the second courting ended, Nivai found herself stricken with nerves. Do’iska said that the third month was when Odahviing would enter her “territory” and would stay until either she dismissed him, or the month ended. Again, she thought of her small property. While she did indeed live nearer to the forest rather than the open plains like her neighbors and had more land than many, she doubted Odahviing could stay there comfortably for a month. And her work at the bakeries had her away from home for most of the day and traveling for weeks sometimes. Perhaps she could get Sabiayl to take over the traveling aspect for the month; the woman had asked to begin learning more of the business aspects of their work rather than just the baking.

_I’ll just tell him he’s free to come and go as he pleases_ , Nivai thought. That should handle everything nicely. He could wander while she worked, and they could spend time together when she returned home. She flushed at the thought, her stomach squirming with nerves and anticipation. To combat the nerves, she fell back on an age-old habit she’d learned at the College: turn the situation into an experiment to distance yourself emotionally from it.

Quickly, she went to her lab, found a roll of paper, a quill, and an inkwell that wasn’t empty, and jotted down a rough experiment layout:

Purpose: To discover if a relationship—whether emotional, intellectual, or physical—between a dragon and mortal is possible.

Hypothesis:

She frowned, her quill hovering above the blank space. A hypothesis couldn’t be formed without base knowledge of the subject; Nivai knew next to nothing about dragon courtship or Odahviing. How was she to determine if she wanted to form a relationship with him?

Wait.

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. How else did you figure out if you wanted to be romantically or sexually involved with someone? You got to know them, of course. She felt a bit foolish for overlooking that part, but when had she ever been excited to be courted by someone? Never. She could forgive herself for being foolish and forgetful.

With that sorted, Nivai grabbed another roll of paper and began listing all the questions she would ask Odahviing when he arrived for the third courtship month. Hopefully he would be willing to answer all of them. If not, then she supposed that she would have to make it up as she went along.

* * *

 

The second month ended, and the third month began. Nivai found herself taking a day off from work to sit anxiously on her porch, pretending to read over Colette’s notes for a new branch of restoration magic and waiting for Odahviing to arrive. She had managed to convince Do’iska to talk to the guards and surrounding farms about Odahviing’s arrival; it wouldn’t do for the entire hold to be up in arms over a dragon on her property, after all. Luckily, Do’iska was willing to help, if only to avoid the disaster that would surely occur if he didn’t.

The waiting was getting to her. She couldn’t concentrate on anything except the sky. She forced herself to get up from her chair at noon to make herself lunch but was soon back in the chair, a plate of scones, jam, and clotted cream in hand.

She had eaten two scones and was halfway through a third when she heard a roar in the distance. She jumped, nearly spilling the bundle of papers in her lap onto the ground. As she scrambled to keep hold of the papers, her eyes immediately went to the sky. The dot she saw quickly became a dragon. Hearting pounding in her chest, Nivai rearranged the papers and set them on the table next to her plate. Her sweating palms would only ruin Colette’s work. Instead, Nivai repeatedly clenched and unclenched her hands in the fabric of her dress—the dress she’d gotten just for this occasion. She knew it was foolish, after all, why would a dragon care for what mortals clothed themselves in? But she wanted to look good for him, and Do’iska refused to assist with her courtship, so the dress would have to do.

She stood when Odahviing was close enough for her to see the red and blue of his scales and moved to stand in her yard to welcome him.

Odahviing circled once and swooped down to land when he caught sight of her. The ground shook slightly from the impact, despite the gracefulness of the action. Nivai’s belly clenched in anticipation and her cheeks flushed when she approached the dragon.

“Drem Yol Lok,” Odahviing greeted.

“Drem Yol Lok,” Nivai responded. She’d managed to convince Do’iska to tell her the basics of dragon etiquette, so she wasn’t completely floundering.

Odahviing wasted no time after the pleasantries. “Do you grant entrance to your domain, brit saviik?”

Nodding, she said, “Yes, I do.”

He bared his teeth in the dragon version of a grin. “Kogaan, brit saviik. I am honored by the opportunity you have allowed me.”

“I’m the one who is honored,” Nivai said. She flushed a darker red. “You must forgive my awkwardness. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say or do during this last month, and I’m worried that I’ll do something wrong.”

Tilting his head, Odahviing said, “You go about your life, brit saviik. The last month is for us to decide if we are compatible and if we wish to mate, whether for the season or longer. If you wish to end the courtship before the end of the month, you need only say so or request for me to leave.”

A light flush on her cheeks, Nivai smiled. “I look forward to getting to know you, Odahviing.”

“As do I, brit saviik.”

* * *

 

All her worrying had been for nothing. Odahviing was eager to sate her curiosity, and they would end up speaking for hours at a time, often jumping through topics as their conversation progressed and backtracking when one had a question for the other. Nivai found herself being less than joyful to go to the bakery for the first time since she opened it. She wanted to spend her days speaking to Odahviing, not in her shop. While Odahviing himself said he wasn’t the dragon version of a scholar, the extent of his knowledge was greater than any mortal Nivai had ever encountered yet discussions with him were grounded in a way she had never gotten from her mage colleagues. Odahvinng stated that while he had nothing against philosophy, he found it to be unfulfilling; to him, theoretical thought brought a disconnection between beings and the reality of Nirn that was ill-suited to dov nature.

Nivai’s head spun just thinking of everything she wanted to ask him and be asked in return. She had never before been so enchanted by another being.

Safe to say, halfway through the month, Nivai felt like she was going to crawl out of her own skin.

The more time she spent with Odahviing, the more she spoke with him and learned about him has a person, the more she discovered how attractive she found him. And it was driving her insane.

Under normal circumstances, she would have pleasured herself to ease the constant, needy ache between her legs. However, Odahviing was always present around her home, and she’d discovered through her questioning that dragons’ senses were much stronger than those of mortals, especially their sense of smell. Despite the rush of heat that always flooded her belly and cunt at the idea of him smelling her masturbating, embarrassment always won over arousal.

But tonight, she was alone. Odahviing had a meeting at the Throat of the World and said he would most likely be back in the early hours (He’d joked at how slow dov, especially the elders, were at getting to the point of said meetings. It had most likely been a dig at the being known as Paarthurnax that she hadn’t met yet).

Nivai’s clothing had been left in a pile on the floor in her haste to undress. She laid in bed, naked and gently stroking the tips of her fingers over her body. She rolled a nipple between her fingers, teasing that place between pleasure and pain until the bud would continue to throb pleasantly after she moved to repeat the motion on the other nipple. The foreplay wasn’t truly necessary. She’d been almost constantly aroused since Odahviing had arrived for the third courting month. When he had told her that he would be absent that evening, she had felt herself grow impossibly wetter, her slick dripping to her inner thighs while her cunt throbbed in anticipation.

Now, Nivai brought up a fantasy that had become a favorite the past few weeks.

Tonight, she skipped the beginning, where she would imagine his tongue languidly flowing over her sensitive flesh until coming to stop between her legs and tasting her for as long as he pleased. She pictured Odahviing above her, rumbling deep in his chest, and his length already extended from the hidden slit near his tail. Nivai shuddered in pleasure when she thought of it, huge and already slick and hot. She had no basis for its shape except for the Argonian man she had bedded nearly two years ago when she’d passed through Riften, whose penis lacked the mushroom head that human and mer had and instead had a tapered, more triangular head and grew thicker towards its base. She remembered the soft ridges decorating the shaft with extreme fondness.

Nivai tilted her hips upwards and teased her cunt with her fingers. She traced along the edges of her entrance, spreading her folds and rubbing like how she imagined Odahviing’s cock would while he waited for permission to enter her. She would give that permission by rubbing herself along his shaft as much as her position would allow. She imagined his tip bumping against her clit and mirrored the action with her wet fingers. She whined at the sharp bolt of pleasure it sent through her and moved her fingers to her entrance. Teasing could wait for another time. She ached to be filled _now_.

Odahviing pressed inside of her; he was hot and thick and almost too big, but he fit. He always did in her fantasies.

Nivai’s core throbbed and ached for the imagined stretch. Her fingers weren’t enough, and she wished she’d taken J’zargo’s offer to make her a toy seriously. She couldn’t fill herself how she wanted, how she needed. Her fingers were too slim and short, not the splitting length she imagined Odahviing fucking her with.

Nivai forced her mind away from her irritation and rolled onto her belly because surely that was the position Odahviing would prefer to take her in. His body structure wouldn’t allow him to press as close as needed if she were on her back.

She raised herself on her knees, resting her forehead on her forearm and watching her fingers reenter her body. She imaged it was Odahviing’s length she was watching disappear inside her, and her cunt throbbed and convulsed at the image. She let out a high, thin whine and closed her eyes to better fantasize about the rough fucking that she so desperately craved.

“Krosis,” Odahviing would purr unapologetically when he was fully inside her and she was struggling to adjust to his girth.

He would tease her, but he would not be cruel. He would not ruthlessly use her but would instead wait for her to adjust. Then, he would do nothing. Or maybe he would shift in place, jostling his cock to and fro until he was satisfied with how he was nestled inside her wet, welcoming heat. But he would not thrust, not even if he was snarling and spewing fire with the strain of holding himself back. Even if she begged him to fuck her until her legs were permanently splayed, he would not do so. Not until she took what she wanted.

Biting her lip, Nivai slowly rocked forward until she could only feel the head of Odahviing’s cock inside her and then slid her hips back into place, testing her balance as she speared herself open. Odahviing rumbled above her. She whined again when she thought of his scaled body and the heat that radiated from it.

Mind lost to the fantasy, she summoned a mild flame spell in her fingers, inching the heat up until she was sure it matched that of Odahviing and not caring if there was a possibility of her walls becoming tender for days or weeks afterwards. If that came to pass, then she would press her thighs together and imagine the pain was from being fucked until she couldn’t take it anymore.

Nivai quickened the pace of her hips and began moving her fingers to simulate Odahviing’s thrusts. She whined desperately when the angle didn’t allow her to reliably hit her Dibellan gem, the pleasure center on the front wall of her cunt. She panted uncontrollably and didn’t bother to muffle her sounds. She had no neighbors to overhear and the guards now gave her home a wide berth. The headboard banged against the wall with sharp, rapid sounds that matched her movements.

Her own slick dripped down her thighs. She imagined it was Odahviing’s release, filling her to the brim and marking her as his as he roared his completion and pressed her into the ground to ride out the pleasure by fucking her harder, and let out a whining moan as she orgasmed. She jerked her fingers out of her cunt and slid them up her belly and to her chest to simulate the hot line of cum her dragon lover would be sure to cover her in. Her wet fingers then zoned in on her clit, circling it quickly and roughly to bring herself to a second orgasm that rode the waves of the first to a crest that had her joints stiffening and her muscles jerking from overstimulation.

She collapsed onto her belly, out of breath and covered in sweat, as the aftershocks of her orgasm gradually gave way to the languidness of the afterglow. She had almost fallen asleep when she shot upright.

_How had I never thought of it before?_ she thought. _I’m a mage! Magic has helped me in so many ways, perhaps it can help me with this!_

She scrambled off her bed, blushing furiously when her knees buckled. She was forced to grab her nightstand until her balance returned and walked to the small desk she kept here for instances of sudden inspiration. She hastily wrote the beginnings of her plan. In the morning, she would send a letter to Tolfdir at the College. Giddiness threatened to burst her chest as she forced herself to keep writing well into the night, until even her candles extinguished themselves.


End file.
